He's got a tattoo of a keyhole under his left eye;
spy us all down;
out flag us
until we give in -
please darling, show us what the Nazi's were really like
I'm just one of those citizens that your bitching at
(tell me more about my brochured rights -
give me a payment plan that will fit my debt filled budget and keep me safe when
the Gestapo knocks on my door.)
I hate to say it
but by writing this
I'm buying myself a one way ticket
onto the list of shame -
burn her to the ground like a modern day saint for her country
murder her and her Arab boyfriend
teach them what it's like to be American.
(And oh, at the end of the day
should you see something suspicious at the airport
by all means
and tell us -
an open innovation for hate and discrimination
we're just American's
and we don't know any better.)
Am I not American enough for you?
that my Wal-Mart $12.99 bra
doesn't push my tits up like the movie stars;
sorry that my cheap high heels
don't fill enough for your
(I'm so fucking sorry
show me what the Nazi's were really like.)
Carnival-ize it to me;
kiss me on the roller coaster
with the idea of myself
as I never was
but rather how
you need me to be
and fit me into this perfect mold of yours.
He doesn't need a key whole to learn all of our dirty little secrets -
he already has his outlined approval -
he can type my name in,
and middle initial
and hunt me down electronically.
How do you run over the computer wires?
How am I supposed to keep silent?
Take over the persona of a mute American bitch with a flag in her window.
Support the troops who don't want to be there
rather then the ones who do!
Please darling, show us what the Nazi's were really like!
what it is to be who I really am -
murder my x- boyfriend (with the Iraqi style skin) because he looks
like hate underneath your cracked knuckles.
Parade us bad American's through the streets
so you can learn to identify the look in our eyes from a distance.
Give me a moment to confirm my pacifism;
my hatred of violence when it is generated toward the flesh
let me say though
that if someone bombed my city
I'd be pissed too
but that doesn't mean that I would readjust myself
just like the thing I grow to hate,
that is not my own self -
put our American middle fingers in the direction of the worlds deserts
while we search out the black water
that makes our SUV's run faster
(we are a nation with speed in mind.)
Common darling, show us what the Nazi's were really like
level your keyhole eye
at the America that you've wasted.
Sorry I'm not a American poet when I get mad